Speak Not, My Heart
by Saber Wing
Summary: A series of letters written by our very own King Maric Theirin. Of thoughts, regrets and words unspoken. The things he wishes he could say, and yet has not the courage for. Sixth Letter: Alistair
1. Chapter 1: Rowan

_**Author's Note: **_This started out as just the single letter, but then I got an idea. What if I wrote a series of letters, to each of Maric's loved ones? This could be a great opportunity for me to get into his mindset in preparation for my upcoming AU fic, although at present it's nothing but a sketchy outline, a couple short scenes, and a few ideas in my head. Watch for it though ;)

Anyway, these are all letters written by Maric, never sent of course. This first one is to Rowan, shortly after her death.

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><p><em><strong>Speak Not, My Heart<strong>_

_**Chapter 1: Rowan**_

How shall I start this letter, I wonder? I can scarcely find the words to write. Dearest Rowan? No, that doesn't sound much like me. My lovely wife? Better, and yet it still seems stiff. I suppose I could just say, 'Rowan.' You know, because that was your name and all…no. Still inadequate.

Sod it. I'm just going to skip the introductions before someone gets hurt. Like you always said, my mind isn't used to such heavy labor. I should be careful or I might end up breaking it, and then where would we be? In the middle of Lake Calenhad without a paddle. Ugh. I'm rambling, aren't I? Funny that can't be avoided even as a quill upon parchment.

I miss you. Loghain says hi. All right, not really, but he misses you too. He doesn't show it of course, but it's obvious if you know where to look. Sometimes he stares into nothing when he thinks no one is around, and that's just about the most _un-_Loghain thing anyone could do, so I know that must be when he's thinking of you. His face is as stern as ever, but his eyes tell a story words could never say.

He still loves you. I know you loved him too. That's okay, you can say it. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not as much of an idiot as people say. You think I didn't notice the fact that you never looked each other in the face? Avoiding eye contact; speaking in terse, clipped sentences. I know what I took from you both. Of course I know. And yet, here I am. Still taking.

I'm just a dirty bastard like that.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wonder what Loghain would say if I apologized to him, too. He'd probably punch me in the face. Psh. Who am I kidding? So would you. I do love you, you know. More than words can say. Maybe not the same way I loved _her, _but just as much. You gave up everything for me. You gave me a life, a family, our son…you will always be adored for that. Always. Still, sometimes I wish things were different.

I don't deserve what you've given me. You would have been happier with _him_.

Part of me wishes I had thrown a tantrum and _ordered _you to run off and be happy together. Maybe you'd still be alive. Maybe Loghain wouldn't be so cold. That would have resulted in two less lives screwed up on my watch. I wonder how many more Maric the Savior will destroy before he dies. Many, I'd wager.

He's just a selfish fool like that.

Cailan doesn't cry for you as often. I think he's getting used to the fact that his momma is never coming home. Poor thing. I remember what it was like to lose a parent at such a young age, and it breaks my heart to think that Cailan's memories of you will fade as surely as mine of my father.

Would it help matters if I begged you to come back? Don't answer that…I know it wouldn't. Just know that I wish it had been me. I really, truly do. Cailan would have a parent who is there for him, not just a shell of a man. Ferelden would have someone to guide her; someone who actually gave a damn, because Maker knows I don't anymore. I know how much I'm dishonoring you and Loghain's sacrifice by saying that, but it's how I feel and I can't change it, no matter how I might wish to.

What a fool you are, King Maric. What a shameful mess.

My door is barred and someone's banging on it. Loghain, probably. Come to think of it, I suppose I've been shut in here for a while. How many days…three? Four? He's yelling at me now. Sounds kind of worried.

I should probably let him in, but I'm not going to.

I'm just a thoughtless joker like that.

I started this letter with every intention of showering you in love and praises. To tell you how much I wish you were here, how much Cailan and I miss you. Instead this entire thing is mostly about me yet again. How does anyone put up with that?

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Please. Allow me to end this on the note I intended. Let me take a moment to tell you how cherished you are. Because Rowan, I love you. Maker, _I love you. _You are my wife and you always will be. We had a beautiful life together, a beautiful child, all built upon the seat of power in our beautiful kingdom. You had the ability to open people's hearts and show them that the world isn't as bad as it seems.

War and peace, chaos and serenity, gentleness and ferocity…all of these things you were. What is Ferelden without you? What am _I _without you? A ship without a sail. A bow without a quiver.

I don't know how to put to words the depth of my sorrow. Things finally seemed like they might have a happy ending for once. But just as I began to feel safe, my legs were swept from underneath me. Before I knew it I was reduced to nothing but a frightened young man again, stranded in the forest, running from his mother's murderers.

Ferelden needs you, Rowan. She is lost without you, and Maker, so am I. I love you. _I love you._

In the end you had my heart, even if yours no longer belonged to me.

Forever Yours,

Maric

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><p>There we have it ;_;. I feel as if I know him a lot better already. Next up: Loghain. Stay tuned! Thank you, everyone, for your support. Oh, and also. I actually narrated the first part of this chapter as a preview yesterday, if anyone wants to hear it. Send me a PM and I'll give you the link :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Loghain

_**Chapter 2: Loghain**_

Loghain. Ah, Loghain. My friend. My brother. How easily you would slit my throat if you knew I was writing this instead of being regal and kingly, like I'm supposed to. That's why you're not _going _to find out. You might have an aneurism or something, and we wouldn't want that.

In all seriousness, I am yet again at a complete loss as to where to start. Truth be told, I'm sort of wondering if I should be sharing such intimate and damning details, even if it is only on a scrap of parchment. Anyone who reads these documents will know my strengths and weaknesses, which is dangerous to the point of idiocy. But Sister Ailis thinks it helps when you write things down, or at least that's what she said after I asked her advice on the matter. She said it would be good for me to continue with these exercises, so I can better cope with past mistakes and come to terms with them. Maybe she's right. It's worth a try.

Anyway…Loghain, I know you would never want to hear this. You would probably be very cross with me if I ever brought any of it up, but please hear me out. Please let me tell you I'm _sorry._

I'm sorry that your father died for me, leaving you behind to guide a fool of a prince who couldn't do anything right. I'm sorry I led you straight to your true love, only to tell you her heart belonged to me. I'm sorry I dragged you into a battle that wasn't yours. By all rights, you should have been allowed to do as you pleased. You should have been a wanderer. A free spirit, going where he wished. Instead you're as much Ferelden's slave as I am. Instead you're here handling half of my affairs, leaving a little girl without her father, a wife without her husband. I wish I could go back to that day. I wish I could take back those moments when I asked you to stay, hand you my horse and all of my riches and tell you to run while you still could.

You should have been a stern but loving man, with a voice akin to steel and eyes as warm as they were unforgiving. You should have been like your father, the way I see him in my memories. Instead you're getting colder and colder with each passing year. The most emotion I ever see anymore is in anger. Maybe that's why I work so hard to give you a tough time.

It's my fault. Even you wouldn't deny that.

Perhaps this shouldn't be left just to letters. Perhaps these words unspoken should be spoken from my heart. Would it do any good, I wonder? Would you actually listen to me?

Do you know what's funny? No really, here's the kicker. For all of my pretty words and heart-felt apologies, I'm about to burden you _again._

I'm leaving tonight; with the Grey Wardens, to the Deep Roads. This imminent Blight is something worth fighting for. I need that…a cause. A goal that makes me feel like a human being rather than one of the Chantry's dour-looking statues. I see my people on the streets, and I know they worship me as a God. One might even say I am revered, but they don't know any better. They don't know Maric the Savior is no savior at all. They don't know he can't even save himself.

I'm tired of being_…this._ A puppet on a throne. A lifeless, soulless void, bereft of everything that once made him whole. That fiery passion youth granted me is naught but a dream, and I _hate it. _I want that passion back. I want to _do _something.

Maybe that's actually the reason. Or, maybe I _am_ trying to throw myself onto the proverbial sword. Either way I'm a selfish son-of-a-bitch, but don't misunderstand. This wasn't an easy decision to make. The guilt is eating at me even now.

I know what it's going to look like when you discover me gone. You'll say I'm abandoning my kingdom, abandoning my _son, _and who knows? Maybe I am. But is being here and like _this _helping Cailan or harming him? He doesn't need to see that. He doesn't need to see _me, _not so…incomplete. He needs a father who is put together.

He needs a father like you.

You could have been his father, you know. In a different time or place. Perhaps my poor boy would have been better off that way. So if I don't come back, be good to him, and hope beyond hope he takes after Rowan instead of a fool.

I cherish you. You know that, right? We've never really said the words aloud, but I know the feeling is mutual, despite the fact that your affection is the last thing I deserve. We've come too far to back out now. Even if I threw a tantrum and _demanded _you leave Ferelden, I doubt you would heed my words. Other than to throw me into a padded cell in Fort Drakon, that is. Besides, I don't even know that such a thing would ever have made you happy.

Do Ferelden proud. As long as we are slaves to her we might as well be good ones, and Maker only knows I've wondered if you would make a better King than I. Perhaps now all of Thedas will have the chance to find out, but more importantly…please take care of my son. He doesn't deserve this. Trust me, it's better that he has you instead.

Brothers in Arms, Always and Forever:

Maric

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><p>I'm not sure which one to do next...I'm thinking Fiona or Katriel. I'll probably save Cailan and Alistair for last ^_^<p>

Thanks for reading! :D


	3. Chapter 3: Katriel

_**Chapter 3: Katriel**_

Katriel. My love. My heart. My nemesis. Strange combination, no? Those three should never go hand in hand, but I suppose it can't be helped.

In truth, I have been putting off this entry for far too long and, well…after what happened in the Deep Roads, I find I've no other choice but to curse myself as a coward and pen the damnable words.

Twelve years. Twelve years since your betrayal broke my heart. Twelve years since I drew my blade and saw that yours ceased to beat. Twelve long years filled with triumphs and losses aplenty, and even still, I find I don't know how to speak the words I must give to you.

Am I sorry? Yes, for many things. I wish I had stayed my hand. I wish I had given you a chance to speak. Perhaps it would have made a difference…but then again, perhaps not. How many did you slaughter with those hands that caressed me? How many more died because I was the fool who trusted a spy, a woman who seduced my heart away? I don't care to even attempt counting them.

And yet…you were a good person. A good woman who buried her loving nature in exchange for one that kept her alive. Who am I to judge you? Who am _I_ to place blame? I may be the King of Ferelden, but I am no sheltered whelp. I am no fool, and I know that elves, especially women, have few options available to them. Does that make your actions excusable? Of course not. It does, however, deserve a second's pause. At the very least, I should have tried to understand.

But I didn't. Just like the witch said, I became what I hated. I murdered you in cold blood, without even giving you a chance. That's what a King would do, is it not?

It is also what a tyrant might do.

My political mind tells me it never would have worked between us. You were an Orlesian Bard. An elf, no less. My position would have been far too precarious to risk taking you as my Queen, especially so soon after setting myself on the throne. One wrong move and the Landsmeet could have seen fit to discredit me. One wrong move and Orlais would come back to claim their 'backwater' province.

My heart knows this as well, but alas, it doesn't care.

I love you. I hate you. I miss you. I wish we'd never met, and yet I cherish the moment my eyes first lighted upon that elven maiden on the streets of Gwaren. Are you watching me, even now? I like to think so, along with my Queen. No doubt about to slash each other's throats, but here for me all the same. Who knows? Maybe you're even getting along. I know Rowan would have given you a chance. She was nothing if not forgiving.

These letters are starting to look the same. So far they consist almost entirely of me apologizing for being an idiot. There are plenty more where this came from, too. Poor Cailan would hardly let me go for long enough to see to some business, along with this letter to you, Katriel. Out of all the things I've done wrong, I think this is the worst. Maker, I left my child _parentless. _That was terrifying at eighteen. How did I expect a five year old to react to it? When I first walked through the palace doors and held out my arms to him, he leaped into them and started sobbing so hard I thought I was going to die. How could I have thought leaving would be good for him? I've a lot to make up for. I'm surprised Loghain hasn't taken to barring my door and all of my windows at night.

I hope Fiona is all right…but I'm getting off track here. Not that you would mind. Whenever I would go off on some babbling rant, you'd just smile and stroke my hair, gazing upon me as if I were the most brilliant man in the world.

I don't know how this happened. I don't know how and I don't know why, but even now, I can't fully regret it. I know that probably makes me a horrible person, but there it is. We may have ended in failure, but I like to think we were happy for a while, in between the fighting and everything else.

Oh and by the way; I believe you. You sought to destroy me with my own heart, but in the end, it was _your _heart that betrayed you. Wasn't it? You fell in love with your target. You fell in _love _with a Ferelden prince…a prince whose destiny was to smite your homeland.

I'm still angry at you I think, but I forgive you if you can forgive me. We'll meet again. You'll see. And I hope that day, we'll be able to look back and smile. All of us.

Sleep Well, Dear Heart:

Maric

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><p>Maric is writing this after returning from the Deep Roads, as I'm sure you understand. Katriel dies in 8:99 Blessed, and the Calling takes place in 9:10 Dragon. It would have been about 9:11 when he wrote this, so...around twelve years passed. That's my rationale for the time I used. Anyway, thanks so much for the support!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4: Fiona

_**Chapter 4: Fiona**_

Fiona. Fiona, I…wow. Just…wow. I still find myself incoherent, even after months to think on everything that passed between us. I confess that once again, I haven't a clue what to say or where to start (shocking, I know. That's becoming a trend).

Let me just start with whatever comes to mind then. Brace yourself. That's usually where things get scary.

I'm _so glad _you're all right. Oh, put your eyebrows down. I'm serious. I was afraid the taint would ravage your body; that you'd end up somewhere in-between darkspawn and human, like Utha or Genevieve. Maybe if you were lucky you'd meet Kell's end, but I didn't like that option very much either.

That year of not knowing was torment for me. It really, truly was. 'Maybe she's all right, but what if she's not, but what if she is, but what if she's not…'and so on, and so forth. You know what happens when I overthink and talk myself in circles.

The not-knowing just got worse and worse with each day that went by. I performed my duties, I took time to spend with Cailan, but at night when I stopped to rest, my mind would be consumed with thoughts of you. Then, finally, I received a message from Duncan…and I could breathe again. When I saw you standing before me after everything we'd been through together, looking so fresh and healthy and _Fiona_…in that moment, my heart felt one-thousand times lighter. I've wronged the people I care about so much, I just…couldn't bear to think you were counted among their number. All I could think was, 'Thank the Maker she's all right. Thank the Maker I didn't screw up again.'

How would it have been my fault, you say? I'm not entirely sure yet, but something would have popped into my head. I didn't try hard enough, I didn't move fast enough. I wasn't a competent guide. I could have done this, or I should have done that.

Ugh. Maker's breath. I _am _too hard on myself, aren't I? I should start listening to…well, everyone who has ever tried to tell me that. Mother always said my tendency to brood was unhealthy. Self-doubt would only sow the seeds of bitterness, and if I wasn't careful, that bitterness would one day swallow me whole. At the time I thought she was full of rubbish, but the older I get the more her words make sense.

That being said, please stand by for the next installment of, 'Maric beats the shit out of himself.' Pretty obtuse of me really, but you have to admire my consistency.

Standing there with the object of my thoughts before me, after so much time had passed…it was overwhelming. My brain was having a bit of an epileptic fit, if you'll pardon the pun. I thought about how much you hated me at first, how I would pester you day in and day out, dropping question after ridiculous question until finally, you'd give in and smile. I thought about our first night together. I thought of all those moments when you saved my sorry hide. I thought about lunging forward, sweeping you into my arms and kissing you until you could no longer remember your own name. I thought about a future with you by my side. A future where we could be happy and you would be my Queen.

Then you dropped one of your specialty fireballs into my lap, and I don't know that I'll ever truly recover from it.

You gave me a son…a miracle baby. One with my face and a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes. He was _impossible;_ a child born of an elven Warden and a Ferelden King. Something that never should have existed, and yet there he was, so tiny and _perfect. _The joys I felt when Cailan came into my life had not faded in the least. Just like him, our son had me at hello.

I was fully prepared to face the consequences; to overcome any scorn I might face. Cailan would have a little brother, and he'd love that after he got used to the idea. Loghain would raise a fuss, but what else was new? I would deal with anything that came my way if it meant I could have him in my life. I could do it. I _would _do it.

Then you told me the words that took another piece of my soul. You told me I couldn't keep him. You told me we had to let him go. You told me an elven mage could be nothing more than a well-kept pet for the King of Ferelden, and the worst part of all was that you were _right _and I knew it. Dreams of a future that could never be mine shattered and fell to the ground, a hollow graveyard full of abandoned hopes and forgotten wishes.

What else did I expect? You'd think I'd know better by now, but alas. I'll never learn.

So what could I do but exactly as you asked? I entrusted our son to one of my own. I hand-picked a trustworthy man. Then I went to him and told him he was to be my boy's guardian. If he would agree, that is.

My son was to be happy. My son was to be free. My son was to live a common life, being whatever he wanted to be. To my relief, my nameless confidant wholeheartedly agreed.

He will never carry the burdens of Calenhad's legacy. That in itself is a liberating thought and if I can do it for him, why not? It would be selfish not to try. This way he will never have to know what it's like for an elf in poverty. This way he can live every day without worrying about someone poisoning his food, or he can go for a stroll when he likes, and there will be no assassin lying in wait.

I named him Alistair, by the way. I hope that's all right with you.

My orders were strict, and they must be adhered to. I am not to know the specifics of his life or whereabouts, unless under dire circumstances. I am not to see him, I am not to talk to him, and most importantly…he is _never _to know that I am his father. My confidant must also abide by the terms and conditions I've given him. If I discover he has broken any of them, the sentence is nothing less than treason. Said confidant also knows I will have an agent about, checking in to be sure all goes according to planned, though he knows not who. This agent will handle things as he sees fit, and he is only to come to me with concerns if he's certain it is necessary.

It hurts to know absolutely nothing of my flesh. It may even be foolish to order myself ignorant, but Alistair will be safer and happier that way. If it is ever discovered that I have another heir, I truly will not have an answer for anyone as to his whereabouts. The less people know the better, and unfortunately, that includes me.

No one knows the truth of who bore the baby, of course. No one. Not even Loghain.

Oh, who am I kidding? _Especially not _Loghain. I'm half convinced he would have told me to throw him to the wolves if he'd known the full truth.

I only hope my trust in Alistair's caretaker isn't misplaced. Everything hinges on him now, and I can't help but wonder if that is a mistake. I ordered myself ignorant and in effect, I am blind. That is why my agent is my failsafe. Duncan promised to keep an eye on him.

He won't let me down. He never has.

It hurts to think of you. Not that pain stops me from doing it _all the time _anyway_. _I'll keep myself busy with some task or another. Then I'll pause and wonder, 'Hmm. What is Fiona up to today?' Naturally that leads me to thoughts of Alistair, and my heart starts to break again. I don't think I'm as good at hiding it as I thought either. Cailan, young though he is, is starting to notice.

So I pull it together, put on a smile for him and dismiss Loghain's worried glances with a wave of my hand. Nevertheless, the ache is ever-present. Bearable, but there all the same.

It's a tender ache though, I suppose. Nothing like the crushing emptiness I've come to know so well. What we shared together, even in the short time we had…I will treasure it. I _do _treasure it; every single moment spent laying in your arms. Surrounded by death and decay itself and yet we still managed to create something beautiful. You broke what was left of my heart and healed it up again, all in one fell swoop. Life no longer seems quite as bleak as it once did. I have you to thank for that, Fiona.

I'm probably not making a lot of sense, but are you surprised? This is _me _we're talking about here.

To be honest, I guess I feel a little angry too. Not at you – don't get the wrong idea. I just wish we'd had more time together, that's all. I care for you so much, but I'm not even sure I can say that I love you.

Do you know what hurts the most? I know I _could_ have loved you, if we'd only had more time. Perhaps we will meet again one day. If not in this life, the next for sure. It's a promise.

My lover, my savior, my friend. Thank you. Thank you for all you have given me.

Forever Your Fool;

Maric

P.S. If I called you sweetheart, would you hit me? Always kind of wanted to try it and see.

P.S.S. I really should burn these.

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><p>Well, here we have it. My head-cannon for Maric. You know, the more I write of these letters, the more I'm thinking they will play a part in my upcoming AU fic ;)<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: Cailan

_**Chapter 5: Cailan**_

Cailan. My pride. My joy. My _son_. This letter is long overdue, and no one knows that better than I.

It has been awhile since I've done this…how fast life passes us by. Truly, the years are beginning to creep up on me. Maker, I'm in my forties, and I can still remember a time when I thought that was _ancient. _Ah, but how fast you've grown up on me. You're fifteen now. _Fifteen. _What happened to bedtime stories and late-night jaunts to the kitchens? What happened to the little boy with mud in his hair and skinned-up knees?

…sod it, now I really do sound like a sentimental old man.

Enough nonsense. Enough of me trying to lighten the mood, because there is no lightening this. The fact of the matter is, I am a sorry excuse for a father. I've failed you so much, Cailan, and I can't even begin to tell you how that grieves me.

Your mother's death was devastating for all of us. Even young as you were, that didn't lessen the tragedy. She was gone, and you didn't understand why, but you knew she was no longer there to tuck you in at night. You knew hugs and kisses would no longer come. You knew mamma wasn't around to tell you the tales you loved so much, and it broke your little heart.

You also knew daddy wasn't there either, and Maker knows that didn't help.

I'll spare you the details. I don't like to think about it even now, but I was the one who found her. I'm sure you learned that when you were old enough to understand. She went to sleep one night and she never woke up. Honestly, it was probably a relief for her. She'd been sick for so long…better to let her suffering end. Not that the thought comforted me much at the time.

I remember stumbling to your room in a daze, holding you close when your little arms reached up for me. You asked me why I was crying, and you wanted to know if mamma was still sick, or could she play with you now?

I cried harder. I couldn't help it. I kissed you, held you closer still, then handed you to one of the nursemaids.

As for the rest…I truly haven't a clue. I remember bits and pieces of the funeral, but not much after that. I remember holding your hand as you dropped flowers onto her grave. I gave a eulogy, but I don't know what I said. I smiled for the crowd as a King would do, and then I shut myself in my chambers and didn't come out for Maker knows how long.

Loghain hadn't made it in time for the funeral. When next I became even partially lucid, he was at the castle and practically running my Kingdom for me. For all intents and purposes, you had become an orphan in one fell swoop.

Let's make one thing clear. I am not trying to justify myself. That isn't the point of this letter. My own grief and depression was no excuse for the neglect you were left with. However, you do deserve to know the reasons why I was the way I was. My life had been nothing but one hardship after another, and when that little slice of heaven I'd finally gained for myself shattered…I lost it. Your mother Rowan's tragedy triggered in me a despair I hadn't thought possible to feel. I didn't care to lead Ferelden; I'd been saving her for long enough. I didn't care to make a show for the people; what did it matter anyway? In my mind, you were better off without me, as was everyone else. Loghain could raise you and do a far better job than I ever would.

I couldn't have been more wrong. I realize that now. Alas, I came to that conclusion far too late; the damage was already done. For a year or two after my return from the Deep Roads, you would get scared if I was out of your sight for more than a few hours. You'd wake in the middle of the night, crying for me. I even took to sleeping in your room rather than mine, at least until I made you understand daddy was _never _leaving again.

Eventually I earned that little bit of trust back, and you relaxed. Somewhat, anyhow. I could leave the palace as long as you knew where I was going, without fear of finding a hysterical five-year-old upon my return. In recent years, thing are much better. You're a young man now (when did that happen?). A bit starry-eyed; fond of old-world chivalry. Still dreaming of adventure and knights who protect the innocent. For now you are a child, and you've much to learn, but sometimes you show flashes of maturity that leave me stunned and make me wonder when you grew up behind my back.

Nevertheless, I still see those hidden scars. I still see that sad little boy, tears in his eyes as he begs me not to leave him. I'm sure you think you're clever, hiding behind masks, but I _perfected _masks, my son. I know what they look like all too well, and I know what lies inside your heart even if you do not.

I know because it's in your eyes, on those rare times I must travel far away. I know because it's in your voice when you ask me where I'm going, then you flash a bright-eyed smile and tell me to have a good time. I hate that smile; the one you think fools me. I hate it because it probably looks exactly the same as mine, and because I know there's absolutely nothing but pain behind it.

We need to have a talk; a good, long talk. Not just me scribbling on parchment to make myself feel better. Thus far, I have allowed you to change the subject every time I try to broach the topic, but that has to stop, and it has to stop now.

There are not many occasions calling for me to leave the capital, but when something does come up, I usually find an excuse to bring you along. Maybe I'm trying to make up for leaving my son behind by never doing so again. "Shouldn't Cailan see this? Shouldn't Cailan learn that?" Loghain just gives me a _look _(you know the one), but in the end, he nods his head and says nothing.

You are my everything, Cailan. Don't roll your eyes at me, I mean it. You _are. _More so than any woman ever could be. And, though I have looked upon him only once, I can safely say your brother owns me just as deeply. That might seem strange, I suppose. I know next to nothing about him, and yet he is flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood, as you are. Nothing compares to the love a parent feels for his children, no matter the circumstance. One day soon, perhaps in five years, or ten, you'll have a child of your own. Then you have but to ask dear old dad for tips, and you'll know exactly what _not _to do while raising children.

Your brother. Yes, you read that right. It's true. His name is Alistair and he's five years younger than you. I imagine you'll be cross with me when you discover I've hidden him for so long. Although…sometimes I think I might be the one who knows nothing. Sometimes I think you know far more than you're letting on, and I have to wonder if my darkest 'secrets' are secrets at all. Ferelden will be glad to have you as her King. You're already an expert at keeping up appearances. Even Loghain believes those clever masks sometimes.

Honestly, I'm not sure if that's reassuring or highly unsettling.

Cailan…my life, my heart. I've prattled for long enough, but please don't make the same mistakes I did. Please don't let yourself be buried under so much despair. If ever you have the strength to climb back out again, you'll find the world a changed place, and the people you love damaged forever. I don't want that for my sons. Alistair, thankfully, will never have to lay eyes upon me. He has a chance to escape the Theirin curse. Sadly, you've been forced to put up with my follies your entire life. I won't have you follow my example, because in case you hadn't noticed, it's a _terrible _one.

Now I must cut this short. I promised we'd spar today, and I would not have a single broken promise between us. Not anymore.

I love you. You make me so proud, my heart swells full to bursting.

Your Well-Meaning Buffoon of a Father;

Maric

P.S. Thank the Maker you inherited Rowan's horseback riding skills. I would not have you with a broken neck on top of everything else.

P.S.S. Sod it all. I'm never going to burn these, am I? Loghain would have my head if he knew.


	6. Chapter 6: Alistair

_**Chapter 6: Alistair**_

Alistair. I'm watching you right now. Yes, I know. Har har. Very creepy. My room has quite a nice view of the ground below; high up enough to see the colors in the sky at sunset, but not so far I can't discern the faces of people as they travel this way and that.

That's fortunate for me, although…perhaps not. It means I can see you if only from afar during my short stay here in Redcliffe, but it also means I'm tormenting myself with visions of a child I'll never call my own.

I don't deserve to look upon you. Swore to myself I wouldn't, in fact, even should the opportunity ever arise. Maker help me, but I can't stop myself. I must be some sort of masochist.

This is why I had you sent so far from the capital. Too tempting otherwise. I know none of my current gibberish is making any sense to you, and that you're probably more confused now than before. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. Please…just know that I didn't send you away because I didn't want you. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I sent you away because it meant you would be _free. _That's something I could never give your big brother, so at the very least, I wanted to spare you.

Listen. I know that we've never properly met and that we probably never will. I know I've had only a handful of up-close glimpses of you; glimpses I never should have stolen in the first place. I know I swore I'd never even _risk _jeopardizing your freedom from the crown – from my curse – but I…

…this letter makes even less sense than my other ones, and that's saying a lot. Please bear with me. I'll stop rambling now and take the rest of my time to tell you how much love I truly have for you, Alistair.

Laugh if you want to. I know I would, in that special, cynical, humorless way that makes it _not _funny at all. I know next to nothing about you; it would be far too dangerous to learn anything of substance, but all the same, I can't stop watching for you and gleaning what I can. As I eat, as I _breathe…_even in my dreams. I think of you every day even back in Denerim, but here it's _so_ much worse. Here you are within my reach, and it hurts all the more because of that.

You're ten years old. Your hair is just a shade darker than mine. Your eyes change color with your mood, and they dance when you're smiling. Your lips quirk up at the corners with every sarcastic remark, the exact same way hers used to, but you won't look your elders in the eye, as if you are beneath them (I'll need to speak with Eamon about that).

You like to frolic around with the horses. Rain just means something new to play in, and the way your cheeks blush when you're embarrassed makes you look just like me.

It's pathetic, really. That this is all I have. That the only fragments of you I could scrounge up are things I saw sneaking around like a criminal. I'm your _father. _My face should be as familiar to you as your own. I should have every last hair on that beautiful head memorized, from how long your eyelashes are, to the softness of your skin and the freckles on your nose. But I don't have that privilege, do I? I could storm through these doors right now, march outside and sit beside you, and you'd probably fall out of the tree you just scaled, tripping over yourself in your haste to bow to Ferelden's mighty King.

And why not? To you, I'll never be anything but a nervous bow and a muttered, 'Your Majesty.' Why? Because I ordered it so.

And that, dear heart, is a raw wound that will never heal. This one won't so much as close. It bleeds even still beneath my breast.

I don't expect you to believe me. I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't expect you to accept the things I've done at the drop of a hat, and I wouldn't _ask_ you to, because Maker knows forgiveness is the last thing I deserve. But _please_. If you believe nothing else, know that I love you. With everything I am. This I swear.

I wish you happiness and contentment in life, my son, wherever that may lead. And though you will never know me, I solemnly swear I will never _forget_ you.

Your (Please insert expletives of choice);

Maric

P.S. Thought I'd leave it up to you where I stand on the, 'disgraceful human being,' scale. Not looking very good, is it?

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><p>Sorry this took so long guys, but finally, I am finished! I do believe this will be the finally letter, though if I come up with suitable future entries, nothing will be stopping me from adding on. That's for sure ;)<p>

Thanks for your support! Each and every one of you. You mean the world to me.


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